


Death shall have no Dominion

by beggarscantbchoosers



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Leo's a drama queen, Leo's basically useless, Multi, Nessa is a sweetheart, Slurs, not excessive amounts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:09:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beggarscantbchoosers/pseuds/beggarscantbchoosers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Leo stared. He’d recognise Zo’s tarot cards anywhere, and he knew his oldest friend well enough to know the man would never willingly lose one of the few possessions he owned. He certainly wouldn’t allow them to get covered with blood."</p><p>Rome wants Leo's genius; he's off limits, for now. His apprentice, too. But half of Riario's soldiers have met their ends trying to woo the artista over to their side, and the remainder want revenge. Someone has to pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death shall have no Dominion

“Leo, have you seen Zo today?”  Nico frowned, walking into the studio with his arms full of bread and cheese. Leo glanced across, flashed his apprentice a smile and darted over. He ducked down to press a kiss to Nico’s mouth before snatching a chunk of bread and darting back over to his work, leaving Nico slightly dazed, his head still tilted up, lips parted.

“No, I haven’t.” Leo called back over his shoulder, mouth stuffed with bread. Nico blinked a few times, then gathered his thoughts enough to remember his question. He frowned, slightly.

“He didn’t come to bed last night.” Nico informed his _maestro_ , flashing the older man a disapproving glance as he did so. “Not that you’d know.” He muttered, taking a seat by Leo’s workbench and breaking the bread and cheese into bite-sized chunks, before placing them next to Leo’s hand, one at a time. He smiled a little as he watched his _maestro_ absentmindedly pick up the morsels of food and eat them; it was a trick Zo had taught him, to ensure Leo ate even when he was distracted working on something. He faltered in his work for a moment, concern for their third rising in him again, and bit his lip before absently continuing to tear the bread apart. “I didn’t sleep well, it was… Lonely.” He admitted. “But Zo _promised_ he’d come to bed as soon as he’d finished playing that round of cards and he _didn’t_.” He popped a chunk of bread in his mouth and chewed slowly. “I’m just worried.” He admitted, after he’d swallowed. Leo looked up then, face going soft. He reached over and cradled Nico’s face in his hands, stroking his thumbs along his apprentice’s cheeks.

“You don’t need to worry.” He assured the boy, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Zo’ll come back, he always does.”  
“He’s never broken a promise before. Not to me.” Nico mumbled, turning his head up for a proper kiss. Leo granted it to him, still holding his apprentice’s face, gently as if he were made of glass.

“You know what Zo’s like, Nico.” Leo murmured, a moment later, hardly drawing back more than a hair’s breadth away. “He probably lost track of time, decided to crash with ‘Nessa instead of risking being caught out after curfew.”

“Probably.” Nico agreed, but he didn’t sound convinced. Leo kissed him again, slow and tender.

“He’ll stagger through that door soon enough, nursing a hangover and crowing about his winnings.” Leo reassured him, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Nico’s mouth, another to his cheek. He stepped back then, reached for Nico’s hand and pulled the teenager to his feet, smiling coyly as he did so. “I am sorry you didn’t sleep well though, my dear Nico.” He murmured, lifting Nico’s hand to his mouth and pressing another kiss to his palm. “Shall I make it up to you?”

“Oh? Are we going to go take a nap?” Nico teased, green eyes wide and innocent, smiling sweetly; he knew exactly what it did to his lovers when he played up the naïve act. Leo simply laughed, quiet and fond in a way he rarely was.

“If that’s what you want, Nico.” He teased, and laced his fingers through Nico’s to lead him to the bedroom.

 

An few hours later, Leo was sketching away frantically in the workshop, wearing nothing but a sheet wrapped shoddily around himself, like a drunken man’s attempt at a toga. He’d left Nico asleep in the bedroom, having sat with his apprentice for as long as he could resist the need to get his ideas down on paper. The door swinging open and crashing into the wall startled him out of his intense state of concentration and he glanced up, narrowing his eyes at the sight of a gaggle of Riario’s men sneering at him from the doorway. One, apparently the ringleader or spokesperson, stepped forward, and the smirk on his face was almost enough to make Leo shiver with fear. Or maybe that was just because he was standing in a draughty workshop in nothing but a sheet.

“Where’s your _mongrel_ , painter?” The soldier jeered, and Leo tensed up, sensing more than seeing Nico emerge on the landing above him, hopefully fully dressed. Rome’s men needed no excuse; he’d heard everyone’s taunts about Nico, their suspicions, and he refused to give them any more fuel than they already had. Not after he’d already been put on trial once; Nico would never betray him willingly, but the boy still had nightmares about Riario’s torture and if Leo had one fear it was that Nico would experience it again, and all because Leo had made a mistake.

“He’s out at the moment, but I’ll be sure to tell him you dropped by.” Leo said, coolly, putting down his charcoal. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear he’s missed you.” He added, and the soldiers all snickered amongst themselves. Their leader’s smile twisted into something dark and cruel, and Leo felt his blood run cold.

“Don’t think you’ll be telling him much of anything.” The soldier said, and tossed something down on the ground by his feet. Leo stared. He’d recognise Zo’s tarot cards anywhere, and he knew his oldest friend well enough to know the man would never willingly lose one of the few possessions he owned.

 

He certainly wouldn’t allow them to get covered with blood.

 

“NO!” Screamed Nico, and Leo had half a second to force his blank mind into movement again, throwing himself across the room just in time to catch Nico as he reached the bottom of the stairs, holding the teenager back from trying to attack the soldiers.

“Nico, don’t.” He warned, even though he wanted nothing more than to tear every single one of those men apart. He might even stand a chance. Nico, though, Nico was small and unarmed and barely knew how to hold a sword anyway. They’d slaughter Nico and laugh as they did so, and Zo would never forgive him if anything happened to Nico. Even if- _especially_ if what the soldiers were implying was true.

“They’re lying, _maestro_ , they couldn’t have- Zo wouldn’t-”

“We could and he did, _boy_.” The ringleader spat, grinning. “We ran the half-breed bastard through like the pig he was, and we threw his body into the river.” Nico let out a distressed wail, and Leo just felt numb, continued to hold his apprentice even though the boy had stopped fighting him now, had gone limp and trembling in his arms. Leo kept his face cold, disinterested, and jerked his chin. If it were just him, he would fight these men to the death, be it his, or theirs. But he had to think of Nico.

“I think we’re done here.” He said, coldly, whilst his apprentice sobbed into his shoulder, and the soldiers, evidently realising they would get no further fight, merely sneered at him once more before leaving. Leo stood there, Nico weeping in his arms, staring blankly at the bloodstained tarot cards on the ground, for a very long time.

 

“ _Maestro_ , please come to bed, you haven’t slept in days.” _And neither have I_ , Nico thought, but didn’t voice. He was tired, exhausted, drained. He just wanted to sleep in the arms of his lovers. Zo never let him sleep alone, and usually managed to convince Leo to come to bed too, but Nico wasn’t Zo, and Leo wouldn’t listen to him. “ _Maestro_ , _please_.” Nico begged, and Leo whirled on him, face like thunder.

“You don’t fucking _understand,_ Nico!” He howled, throwing his cup across the room; Nico ducked, and it missed him, but just barely. The dregs of the wine splattered across his face and shoulder, dripped down his chin, and he looked over at his _maestro,_ aghast. His eyes prickled with tears, more angry than anything else – he’d run out of grief days ago.

“I love him too!” He yelled back, hands clenched into angry fists at his sides. Leo laughed, bitterly.

“ _Loved_.” He said, mockingly. “You _loved_ him, he’s _gone_ , Nico, he’s not _fucking coming back!_ ”

“We don’t know that!” Nico screamed, then shuddered, repeating himself in a broken whisper. “We don’t know that.” He muttered, wrapping his arms around himself and hugging tight, lacking any other option. He could really do with one of Zo’s warm, engulfing hugs. Zo’s arms were strong, his chest broad, and his hugs were comfort and safety incarnate. Of course, that wasn’t an option. It would never be an option again. The grief; overwhelming heartache and a strange sense of betrayal, welled up inside him again, triggering another round of tears. He sucked in a breath through a harsh sob and tightened his grip on his own arms, using the bite of his nails into his own flesh to try and focus. “They didn’t… The soldiers… There was no body.” _Just the cards_ , and that was damning enough, but Nico would hold out hope as long as he could bear to. “There was no body.” He repeated, a chant to himself more than anything else, voice trembling.

“He’d be back.” Leo said, and his voice was worryingly devoid of emotion; flat and inflectionless, his face similarly blank when Nico dared glance up at him. “He’s never… Never left me for this long before. If he was… If he _could_ …” He shuddered, snatched up the bottle of wine and took several gulps from it, wiping a stream of red from the corner of his mouth. “He loved you, so much, he… He’d never leave you if he could help it.” He muttered, and Nico furiously scrubbed the tears from his face.

“He loves- _loved_ you too, _maestro_.” He murmured, risking a half step closer to Leo. The _artista_ flinched backwards, triggering the same response in his apprentice; Nico’s face fell once more, mouth trembling. Leo didn’t seem to notice, nor care.

“He _always_ came home. Came back, to me.” He muttered, taking another gulp from the bottle of wine. “Always. No matter what I’d done, no matter who he’d been with, who _I’d_ been with… Always.” He took a shuddering breath, turned the bottle upside down and found it empty, then yelled with frustration and threw it against the wall, following after the cup, before slouching forward and gripping the edge of the table, so tight his knuckles showed stark white against his skin. Nico caught his breath and moved towards his _maestro_ , hand outstretched. Leo was breathing harshly, and as Nico got closer he saw that Leo’s eyes were rimmed with red, the skin beneath bruised blue black with exhaustion. “He’d come back to me, and he never loved me like he did you.”

“Of course he did, _maestro_.” Nico said, gently. “He loved both of us equally.” Leo snorted.

“He’d pick you over me every time and I knew it.” He snarled, shoulders tense, face twisted into bitter rage. “I _knew_ it but I loved him, so fucking much, that I didn’t even care that I was second best in his eyes-”

“That’s not true!” Nico snapped, voice shrill, fists clenched again. He stamped his foot, feeling more like a petulant child than ever. “Don’t you _dare_ sell Zo short like that, you know as well as I- better than I!- that Zo never knew how to love by halves! You _know_ how much he loved you, you’re just… You’re just trying to devalue it so it doesn’t hurt as much, so you can pretend you haven’t lost the love of your life, but it won’t work, Leo!” He choked out, tears spilling down his cheeks. “It won’t work because _I love him too_! You’re not the only one missing him, just because you’ve known him longer doesn’t mean you miss him more than I do, doesn’t mean you get to _mourn_ him more than I do, a-and… And I _need_ you, _maestro_!” He was shaking, by this point, with grief or with anger he didn’t even know anymore, but his eyes were still fixed on Leo, who was staring at him in a kind of shock. “I _need_ you, and you need me, because otherwise we’re going to go _mad_ , don’t you see? Zo was always the one who kept us steady, the one who… Who reminded you to eat, and kept me from having nightmares because he’d _always_ be there at night and he _knows_ I hate sleeping alone and-” He was mixing his tenses and he knew it, but his heart was still struggling to cope with the reality of Zo, brave, loyal, _dependable_ Zo being gone, and he gave up on trying to speak and just cried, small body wracked with sobs that only got worse when he felt Leo get up from the table and move to wrap his arms around him. He tucked himself in tight against his _maestro_ ’s chest, clinging to him, and it wasn’t the same as one of Zo’s all encompassing embraces, but it was all he had now, and he would have to cope.

“It’s been me-and-Zo so long I don’t know how to go back to just being me.” Leo admitted, quietly, once Nico’s sobs had eventually abated somewhat, eased off into sniffles and hiccoughs that were, somehow, even more pathetic. “Even once you joined us, Nico – and don’t think for a second I regret that, regret you, no matter what I just said – even once you joined us, it was me-and-Zo-and-Nico, still never just me. I don’t know who I am without Zo.”

“Well,” Nico said, sniffling again. “We’re going to have to learn, now.”

“No.” Leo vowed, arms tightening around his apprentice. “No, it’s still Leo-and-Nico. They can’t take that away from us.”

“What if they try?” Nico asked, in an anxious whisper, and Leo hugged him ever tighter.

“Then I’ll stop them.” He said, firmly. “Zo would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you- I’d never forgive _myself_. I’ll beg my _father_ for protection before I let anyone hurt you, ever again.” He swore, and Nico didn’t have a response to that. Leo could guess at what he was thinking, though, because his own mind was echoing with the same thing; what else could Riario possibly do? What could possibly hurt _more_ , than losing Zo?

“Please come to bed, _maestro_.” Nico begged, voice small and wavering, and Leo nodded and let his apprentice lead him upstairs. As they lay curled together on the too-big mattress, all Leo could think of was how different things had been, the last time he’d been up here; just days ago, though it seemed like longer. How he’d lain a laughing Nico down, made love to him slowly, tenderly, and then let the boy sleep in his arms, thinking about his next project and wondering, idly, when Zo would return. Then, of course, the soldiers had come, and thrown Zo’s bloodied tarot cards down at Leo’s feet. Leo’s heart had belonged to Zo since they were teenagers, and the fact that Nico now owned half of it did nothing to detract from how much it _ached_ , to know that Zo would never be coming back. Would never be coming _home_. Nico, clearly exhausted, fell asleep almost instantly, face pressed into Leo’s shoulder, arms tight around the _artista’s_ waist as if trying to ensure that Leo wouldn’t leave him in the night, and Leo realised that he’d left Nico to deal with this loss alone, and whilst Leo was used to being left behind, used to heartbreak, Nico had never felt such pain. Leo and Zo, both used to rejection and loss, had vowed that their youngest never would. And Zo had sworn he would always be there for Leo.

“You broke your side of the deal, Zo.” Leo murmured, tucking his face into Nico’s curls. “You broke your side of the deal, and I don’t know how to cope without you anymore. I don’t know how to look after myself, and I sure as hell don’t know how to look after Nico, that was always your job.” He sighed, heavily, and held Nico a little closer. “But I’ll do my best.” He promised, and closed his eyes. “ _Baruch Dayan emet.”_

 

***

 

“You two look like shit.” Nessa said, conversationally, like she herself didn’t look worn down with grief. She might not have been Zo’s lover, but she had adored him all the same – all three men had become like brothers to her, and it hurt her to see Leo and Nico so… Hollow. There was an empty space within the workshop, a seat always left open, a third of the bed unslept in. It was most noticeable with Leo, the way he would turn, mouth already forming Zo’s name, and then remember, and sit down hard on whatever was closest, even the ground, sometimes, just staring into space. But Nico, too, looked broken; the way he would hug himself, looking distressed, the way even when Leo was with it enough to reach for him, to pull him into an embrace Nico’s arms went a little wider, automatically making accommodations for a broader chest, before tightening around Leo’s slimmer form like he would be swept away if he didn’t anchor himself. Their eyes were dead, shoulders slumped, and worst of all, Leo hadn’t drawn a thing since he’d heard of Zo’s death. Instead, he would just sit in a corner, or in front of his workbench, flicking through Zo’s tarot cards, touching the bloodstains and very clearly trying not to cry. Nico, on the other hand, had no tears left, just moving around in a daze, expression blank. Leo was clearly trying his hardest to take care of the boy, but he could barely take care of himself, and Nessa had taken to dropping in whenever she could get away from her duties at the tavern to check in on them, bringing them food and cajoling them to sleep.

“The love of my life is dead.” Leo said, flatly. “Excuse me for taking a while to get over it.”

“You still have Nico.” Vanessa lowered her voice, glancing over at where Nico was slouched against a wall, rolling an apple from hand to hand. The gesture was unmistakably Zo’s, as was the enormous shirt the boy was wearing, and Vanessa’s heart ached for her little brother. “He needs you to be the strong one, Leo.”

“And who’s going to be strong for me?” Leo asked, looking up at her with a wry, weary smile. She smiled back at him, but like his own it had no real joy in it.

“Me.” She offered. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be, if you can look after Nico.” Her tone softened, and she reached out to touch Leo’s face, gently. “I can’t replace Zo – I wouldn’t want to – but I can be the one to remember to feed you, and to chase you to bed, but I can’t be here all the time… And Nico’s just a kid.”

“He’s only a few months younger than you.” Leo pointed out, and Nessa laughed, softly. It earnt her a smile from Leo that was just a little more true, and she reached out and drew him into a hug.

“You and I, Leo, we’ve suffered loss before. Nico hasn’t, he doesn’t know how to cope. He’s still a child in so many ways; you and Zo have always coddled him, for starters. And he looks up to you. You stay strong, and he will mimic you.”

“When did you get so wise?” Leo asked, pressing a kiss to her hair. “It’s like you grew up when I wasn’t looking.”

“Well, someone has to look after you idiots, and what are sisters for?” Nessa teased, drawing back enough to smile up at Leo, who grinned back at her.

“Replacin’ me already, you tosser?” A jovial voice called from the doorway, and Leo and Nessa both turned to stare, wide eyed with shock. Across the room, an apple dropped to the floor and rolled into a corner, whilst Nico let out a pained little cry. Leo was closer, though, and he flung himself across the room in a heartbeat. Zo was there to catch him, arms tight around Leo’s shoulders whilst the _artista_ felt tears spilling down his cheeks.

“You _fucker_ , they told us you were dead!” He complained, voice wavering, and Zo chuckled, though there was a tightness to it that was explained by the thick swathe of bandages wrapped around his torso.

“Pretty sure I was for a while.” He muttered, carding one hand through Leo’s unkempt hair. “But I said I’d always come back to you, didn’t I?”

“You _fucker_.” Leo repeated, and then drew back enough to smile helplessly up at Zo, who grinned back. He looked even more dishevelled than usual, his once-cream shirt filthy and torn, his feet bare, and every inch of him covered in dirt. He was the most beautiful thing Leo had ever seen. “God I missed you.” Leo said helplessly, and Zo’s face went soft and apologetic.

“Yeah, mate, I know.” He said, and then his gaze moved to focus on something just behind Leo. The _artista_ moved to the side, but kept one hand on Zo’s arm as if worried the other man would disappear if he let go. Nico stood just behind him, hands clenched into fists at his sides, fine tremors wracking his body. His eyes were filled with tears, but he looked more _angry_ than anything else. Zo lifted his hands and held them out, as if soothing a wild animal.

“Nico, poppet, c’mere…”

“We’ve been mourning you for a _month_.” Nico said, voice low and almost dangerous. “Riario’s soldiers told us they killed you and threw your body in a river.”

“The river part’s true.” Zo allowed, moving a pace forward. Nico tensed even further, and Zo froze. Leo pressed a little closer to his side, mouth in a tight line as he watched his apprentice warily. “Nico, I was _stabbed_. They beat the shit out of me and then stabbed me in the gut to finish me off and I should’ve bloody died, no doubt about that, but I _didn’t_. They threw me in the river and all I could damn well think was that I didn’t get to say goodbye, that I’d said I’d come straight home and you’d never know why I didn’t unless those fuckers decided to brag.”

“Which they did.” Leo said, hesitating before reaching into his pocket and passing Zo his tarot cards, cleaned to the best of Leo’s ability, though still marked with faded brown bloodstains. Zo smiled at him, fondly, gratefully, and tucked them into the inner pocket of his shirt. He was warm, almost hot, beneath Leo’s touch, and he could guess the rest. “Where did you wash up?”

“I was halfway to bloody Pisa before someone fished me out. I got lucky, it was a Jewish fisherman and his sons and apparently I still pass enough for a Jew outside of Florence for them to believe I was one of them.”

“You _are_ one of them.” Leo pointed out, and Zo huffed out a laugh.

“Fair enough.” He muttered, and for all that Zo shared in Leo’s lax views to religion Leo knew full well that he identified more with his Jewish mother and the uncle who’d raised him than he cared to admit. “Anyway, they took me home, the women of the house started crying because apparently I was the image of the youngest son who’d died a few months previous, and they bandaged my wounds, got some food in me.” He shrugged.

“When did the fever set in?” Leo asked, and Zo’s jaw tightened.

“Second day. It was pretty bad. Ibrahim – that was the man who rescued me – got their rabbi to pray for me and everything.” He shrugged. “One of his daughters asked me about you two, once the fever finally broke, since I was apparently begging for you both. I told her you were my brothers.” He laughed, tersely. “Don’t think she believed me, but… She didn’t say anything. I stayed with Ibrahim and his family for a couple of weeks – they tried to get me to stay longer, until I was completely healed, but… I wanted to come home.” He shrugged again, wincing as it pulled at his wound. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” He offered, and Nico let out a sob and threw himself into Zo’s arms. Zo sighed in relief and wrapped his free arm around the boy’s shaking shoulders, the other still firmly holding Leo’s waist, though Leo was beginning to think it was just as much for support as for comfort.

“Nico, Leo, we should get Zo cleaned up and put him to bed.” Nessa said, firmly, taking charge. “Look at him, he’s filthy and exhausted, let him sit down and then go fetch water for a bath.” Nico drew back and nodded, firmly; Zo reluctantly let the boy out from under his arm, shifting his other up to Leo’s shoulders as the _artista_ helped him to a chair by the fire.

“You could’ve said he was hurting you.” He murmured, lowly, having noticed that Nico had been pressed up against Zo’s injured side.

“Hurt more to be away from him.” Zo said, honest with exhaustion, keeping a grip on Leo’s wrist even once he was in the chair. “You, too.” He added, then frowned. “Did you eat at all whilst I was gone? You’re bloody skin and bones mate, even more than usual.”

“Like I’d remember to eat without you there complaining you’re hungry.” Leo teased, but Zo’s mouth stayed in a firm, unimpressed line. “Zo, we thought you were _dead_. I didn’t have much appetite.” He shrugged, helplessly, and the harsh line of Zo’s mouth softened; he tugged Leo down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m back now.” He said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not looking like that, you’re not.” Nessa agreed, helping Nico lug the large bathtub in front of the fire. “C’mon, Leo, put the kettle on. Zo, you just relax, I’ll get you something to eat.” Zo grinned at her in thanks, slouching down in the chair, one hand pressed to his wound, letting his head loll to the side. His eyes slid closed, and the last thing he heard before he fell asleep was the clatter of Leo tripping over a chair as he ran to fetch a sketchpad, Nico scolding him for spilling his bucket of water in the process, and the frantic scratch of charcoal on paper whilst Nessa laughed at the both of them. He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> My dearest beta informed me I should write a faked death fic and even gave me the basic plotline she wanted to see. I like to think I delivered.
> 
> ... What do you mean Nico's not a shrill, angry baby in canon?
> 
>  _They shall have stars at elbow and foot;_  
>  _Though they go mad they shall be sane,_  
>  _Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;_  
>  _Though lovers be lost love shall not;_  
>  _And death shall have no dominion._ \- Dylan Thomas, 'And Death Shall Have No Dominion'


End file.
